


Home Front

by Creed Cascade (creedcascade)



Series: SNAFU Verse [3]
Category: Tour of Duty (1987)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Special Ops, Wordcount: 10.000-30.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-17
Updated: 2011-11-16
Packaged: 2017-10-26 04:35:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/278745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creedcascade/pseuds/Creed%20Cascade
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The entire team continues to push the boundaries of their relationships. Third story in the “SNAFU ‘Verse.” An AU where the characters of Tour of Duty have been fast forwarded to contemporary times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Johnny should have heard someone picking the lock to his door. He might have heard them if he hadn’t had a football game cranked so loud the surround sound was thumping the walls. Maybe even more troubling was that no one stopped someone from picking the locks of a single officer’s quarters on the supposedly secure grounds of Fort Bragg. Johnny didn’t realize anything was wrong until an arm wrapped around his throat, choking him in a sleeper hold. Johnny clawed at the muscular forearm cutting off his breath.

He smashed an elbow back into his attacker’s face and felt the man let up. What he didn’t expect was for the man to start laughing.

“Shit, McKay,” Danny’s familiar voice snapped. “Took you long enough. You’re gettin’ soft.”

Johnny shook his head, gasping as blessed oxygen flooded back into his starving lungs. Once his vision cleared a bit, he gritted his teeth. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing, Percell? I could’ve killed you!”

Danny merely grinned and started towards McKay’s kitchenette. “Dude, you would have been out cold if I really wanted you to be.”

Johnny heard the refrigerator open and bottles clink. “Again, I ask, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”

There was a disgruntled huff and Danny reappeared holding a couple of brown bottles. “I was gettin’ us a couple of beers but, it looks like all you have is the light shit. That’s not real beer, ya know. I suppose it’ll have to do in a pinch.” With no further warning, he tossed one of the beers in Johnny’s general direction and Johnny caught it, setting it on the coffee table. “Always knew you were a pansy-ass. Your poor choice in beer confirms it that much more.”

“I suppose insulting me is a step above trying to kill me.” Johnny rubbed his throat. “Though I would classify sneaking up behind me like a coward and trying to choke me was a pretty weak.”

“Still wanna kill you for what you did to Doc ‘n’ that wasn’t cowardly sneaking up on you, that was stealth.” Danny ambled over and sat down on the coffee table right next to Johnny’s beer. “We gotta talk, McKay.”

“Talk?” Johnny snorted and reached out to grab his beer. He needed a drink. “Unless you’re here about an assignment, then I suggest you get the hell out of my place.”

Danny spread his legs and rested his elbows on his knees. “No.”

“No? How about I make that an order, all official like, and then you carry your pansy ass out of here. If you don’t, I’ll have you court-martialled for disobeying a direct order.”

Danny sneered around the bottle of beer he’d just pressed to his lips. He gave a satisfied smack of his lips as the amber liquid slid down and shook his head. “I ain’t leavin’ and you don’t wanna go doin’ anything stupid. Last time you did that the whole damn squad found about what went down and you got the cold shoulder for awhile. I suggest, if you’re as smart as you say you are anyway, that you listen to what it is I came here to talk to you about before throwing me out on my ear.”

Johnny leaned back into the sofa, spreading his arms wide along the top of the cushions. “How about you fucking leave because I don’t give a damn about what you have to say.”

“That’d be a real pity considering this has to do with Doc.” Danny set his bottle down and stood up and shrugged. “But, if that’s what you want...”

Johnny quickly leaned forward, thrusting his arm out to block Danny from moving out of range. “What about, Doc?”

Danny quickly grabbed Johnny’s arm, pulling off the couch and pressed him up against the closest wall. This time it wasn’t to cause damage, but to get his attention. Danny still couldn’t help but take satisfaction in the way Johnny grunted a little. Danny pressed his chest against Johnny’s back, twisting his arm back slightly.

“Doc likes you,” Danny hissed like it was a curse.

“Fucking let me go.”

“He likes you ‘n’ you’re an asshole.”

Johnny was tempted to stomp down on Danny’s foot, but there was something desperate in Danny’s voice. He could feel Danny’s hands shaking as he held Johnny in place.

“What’s Doc to you?” Johnny hissed.

“Don’t see how that’s any concern a’yours, pal.” Danny pulled Johnny’s arm tighter. “All you need to know is that I’d kill for him with plenty of good reason, you not being one of them. Me ‘n’ him, we’re complicated but, what we got works. That’s all you’re ever gonna know if I have my way. Doc chooses to tell you more, then that’s on him.”

Johnny relaxed in Danny’s hold, knowing that maintaining the tension would keep Danny pressing harder. The moment he went lax, Danny stepped back and released him. “I don’t know why I’m doing this except that it’s what he wants. And, believe me, don’t think I won’t be keeping an eye on you. Everyone knows about Johnny McKay, infamous manwhore. Only a few of us know that it’s more than just skirts that you go eyeing.”

“I haven’t been eying Doc,” Johnny denied. He took a few steps away, telling himself he wasn’t backing away from Danny. “Doc came chasing after me. I think he’s got a thing for straight boys. You tell me, Percell, because he seemed pretty comfortable putting on girl on girl porn trying to get into my pants. That work for you?”

Danny launched himself at Johnny, grabbing his shirt and this time pressing him back against the couch. “Take it back or I’ll mess up that pretty face of yours!”

“Why take it back? You’re using him and it’s wrong!”

“I’m not,” Danny hissed. “You don’t know anything!”

“You’ve got something really fucked up with him and I don’t want anything to do with. After everything he’s been through, you’re after some sort of perverted fix, pushing me on him. You want to watch me fuck him? Is that your kink?”

Danny got right into Johnny’s face then, up close and personal enough that Johnny could count the number of sweat beads on his forehead. He gulped and flinched inwardly when Danny caught it, with an almost feral grin at the notion that he had Johnny cornered and scared.

“Baiting me ain’t gonna help, Johnny-boy. I got nothin’ to say to you about my past with Doc. I came here with an offer but, if you don’t want to take it, be my guest. Maybe I’m not the one you need to be talkin’ to anyway.” Danny gave Johnny a rough shove backwards. “All I’m sayin’ is, he’s got a thing for you and I’m momentarily steppin’ out of the way. Whatever makes Doc happy.”

Johnny quickly regained his sense of balance. Despite Danny’s seemingly nonchalant choice of words, Johnny could see the other man was deeply affected.

“I’m not the best choice to make anyone happy. I don’t want to start up anything with Doc.” What Johnny didn’t say was that he couldn’t risk setting off Doc like last time. Seeing Doc like that and knowing he had been the trigger was one of the most uncomfortable moments of his life.

Danny laughed quick and short. “See, the thing is it doesn’t matter what you want.” He could tell Johnny was ready to tell him off again and he added, “Doc has a way of getting what he wants. Trust me.”

Danny left and Johnny didn’t follow.

++++++

Johnny started to step into the mess hall but the moment he saw Doc heading towards him he ducked back out. He mentally grimaced, picking up his pace in an attempt to make a quick getaway and ran smack dab into Myron as he rounded the corner.

Myron’s paper cup filled with coffee crumpled at the impact, spilling the liquid all down the front of his shirt. He stared at it for a moment as if unsure that he saw was true. When he lifted his gaze to look at Johnny, all emotion seemed to be gone from his eyes.

“You successfully killed my first cup of the day.”

“I’m sorry, Goldman,” Johnny started to sidestep but Myron’s hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist. “I’m sure they have a fresh cup in the mess.” When he realized he wasn’t getting anywhere he looked down at the hand holding him then back up at Myron. “I said I was sorry!”

“Yes, you did. Now you can make complete amends by going and fetching me another one.” Myron widened his eyes when Johnny simply stood there, mouth open. “Hearing problem, McKay?”

“No, just a problem with you.”

Johnny swore he could feel Doc staring at him and that was the reason he grabbed Myron’s empty cup. Normally he would have told Myron to stuff it, but this was the perfect excuse to make tracks. Johnny kept telling himself not to look up, but then he did and saw Doc was indeed staring at him.

“I’m not sure I won’t spit in it,” Johnny mumbled and turned to quickly escape.

Myron watched Johnny flee and then glanced over at Doc. His medic had an impassive expression on his face, but it set off Myron’s warning bells. Doc’s eyes made him wary. He watched after Johnny with a bit of that crazy glint. It was exactly the same way Doc watched Percell.

“Shit,” Myron hissed under his breath. This was exactly what he was afraid would happen. Doc already had something strange going on with Danny and now he had his sights set on Johnny. Myron knew he had to find Zeke and try to defuse this before it affected the team.

Doc never acknowledged him, just turned and headed back the way he came. That in itself was an indicator that things were progressing way past where they should be. Myron reached down and grabbed the cell phone hooked to his belt clip. He flipped it open and started to dial.

Zeke answered and said hello, then the connection suddenly dropped. Myron swore under his breath and tried to dial again but the screen went black.

“Stupid piece of junk,” he muttered as he flipped the phone closed with more force than necessary. He was on his way to his office, hoping to catch Zeke that way on a reliable landline but, when he got there Zeke was already waiting, holding a mug of steaming coffee.

“Forgot to charge it again, didn’t ya?” asked Zeke with a chuckle, following Myron into the office. “Johnny asked me to give ya this, too. Boy seemed to be in an awful hurry this morning.”

“As well he should be. Looks like he might have a stalker.”

Zeke froze as he passed the coffee cup. “Oh, dear lord, please tell me it’s not who I think it is.”

“An egotistical, holier than thou, newly acquired chopper jock.”

“Well, fuck me to hell ‘n’ back. Don’t this make the beginning of the week that much more fun?” Zeke growled, finally releasing the mug to Myron’s eager hands.

Myron knew his office wasn’t bugged because he gave into his paranoia and checked it on a regular basis. He grabbed the coffee and took a big gulp, wincing as he tasted the sickeningly sweet brew. “He poisoned my coffee, that bastard.”

Zeke waggled his finger in a hand-it-over gesture. Myron gave him the mug and pulled another face, smacking his lips together with disgust.

“It’s liquid crap. Only the sugar makes it somewhat palatable.”

Zeke took a sip and shrugged. “Not so bad.”

“Remember during that heat wave when the guys were playing football with their shirts off?”

Zeke took another drink from Myron’s coffee. “Yeah, why?”

“Remember how Doc watched Danny? That’s how Doc was watching Johnny.”

Zeke ran a hand over his face and sighed deeply. “We got trouble on our hands, more so than we originally thought.”

Myron took a deep breath and dropped into his chair. “That’s putting it lightly.” He reached into his pocket and produced a key before reaching down to the bottom drawer of his desk to unlock it. From there he retrieved two files, one much thicker than the other. He tossed both of them onto the desk and glanced up at Zeke. “I don’t want the rest of the team involved in this. And, I want Percell in here posthaste.”

“What about the other two?” Zeke leaned forward, elbows on knees. “Do we let the game of cat and mouse go on a bit longer while we talk it over with Percell?”

Myron nodded. “For now, yeah. My main concern is why in the hell Percell even approached McKay? We both know how jealous he gets so permission, or no permission, from Hockenbury is still gonna cause problems. I want a quick resolution to this before the rest of the team, or even worse, Brewster finds out about it.”

Zeke knew about these files that were kept only by the unit leader, secret from any outsider. The men selected for this unit were the best, but also by definition outsiders and troublemakers. They all carried an array of suspected and diagnosed personality disorders and problems from their past. Myron himself had ongoing problems with intimacy and addiction.

Myron decided it was best to lay it all out on the table, saying the thing that had gone unsaid since Doc had been captured. “Hockenbury was raped.”

Zeke reached for Percell’s file and opened it. “This thing between Doc ‘n’ Percell started before that. Doc always had his eye on Percell, but then it became a two-way street when Doc helped Percell get off the smack. His profile identifies him as heterosexual.”

Myron smirked. “So does yours.”

“Is Percell trying to keep McKay away from Doc, or…”

“Or?”

“Or, push them together? It would make sense that he would try to hook Doc up with McKay to get Doc off his hands.”

Myron grunted in agreement, eyes scanning Doc’s file. “Rational theory, except for Percell’s jealousy. I think Doc likes Percell being jealous.”

“Which begs the question of why he’d still do it then?” Zeke scratched at his chin. “If he’s that jealous of Doc bein’ with anyone else, why?”

“I have no idea. Which is why we’re going to get Percell in here and find out exactly what’s going on. I can’t afford to have the team dealing with inside drama when the next mission comes up.” Myron watched as Zeke stood up. “Don’t give it away as to why I want to see him.”

“Course not, sir. I’d never do that,” Zeke winked, heading out to round up Percell.

Myron glanced down to Percell’s folder and flipped gently through it. The boy had issues about his father’s remarriage to a younger woman. Father issues were prevalent in his psychiatric profile. His father had raised Percell with a strong hand and Bible-belt mentality, which made it harder for him to deal with any homosexual tendencies. Love sometimes overcame who the body came with. Myron could sympathize. Giving into Doc for even the smallest bit of affection seemed to cause more harm than good. The kid was a bundle of problems that Myron thought he had a handle on.

There was a sharp knock on his office door. Myron called out, “Come in!”

Percell opened the door and entered. Even in street clothes, he fell into parade rest in front of Myron’s desk. Zeke came in behind him and closed the door.

“Sarge said you wanted to see me, sir?”

“Yes, Percell.” Myron rapped his fingers on the desk. He noticed that Zeke stood behind Percell, knowing the psychological effect the positioning had on Danny. “Have a seat.”

Danny glanced at Zeke before taking a seat in the chair in front of Myron’s desk. No one ever sat in the chair right next to Myron’s desk because they knew that was by default Zeke’s. Danny’s posture remained rigid as he sat in the chair, keeping his expression passive.

“Something’s come to my attention that I can’t ignore,” Myron started. “Your friendship with Doc and your… not so friendly relationship with McKay.”

“I have no relationship with McKay,” Danny spat, his impassive mask slipping for a moment. “Did he report me for anything?”

Myron strummed his fingers on the desktop, fingernails chewed down and ragged. It signalled to Zeke that the LT wanted a smoke, but was fighting the urge. There was nothing quite like dealing with the shit their men pulled to entice Myron to resume his smoking habit.

“McKay didn’t say a thing,” Zeke said. “He didn’t need to. You’ve been letting your personal life endanger the unit.”

“We can only cover for you so far,” Myron added. “Start by keeping your shit together on base. Keep it professional with McKay. You have something to say, Percell?”

“My personal business is my business.”

Myron stopped strumming his fingers and curled them back under his palms. “As long as you’re under my command, your business is my business. You got that?”

Danny lowered his gaze when challenged by Myron. He was silent for a moment and finally spoke. “You’ll be leaving Doc outta this. I got it all under control.”

Zeke bumped his foot against Myron’s. “Not from where we’re sitting. You might not be doing Doc, or anyone, any favours if he’s getting in over his head. Especially considering…”

“He’s dealing,” Danny cut him off. “I don’t know how he does it, but he’s dealing. If you take the unit away from him, then I don’t know...” Danny paused and rubbed his hands over his face. “He’ll do his job. I’ll do mine. He’s my best friend ‘n’ he’s the only family that counts for me. You lose him, you lose me.”

“Consider this an off-the-record word of caution.” Myron rapped his knuckles quietly on the desk and tapped Zeke’s boot with his own. “Sometimes you can’t fix people.”

“Sometime people don’t need fixin’,” Zeke added. “But just you remember you’re not in this alone. We take care of our own.”

“Yes, Sarge. Thank you.”

“You’re dismissed.”

++++++

Myron heard the enemy before he saw it. Objective be damned, all he wanted to do was commit murder and have it over and done with. But, the brass had made it clear he was not only supposed to collaborate with the enemy, but pretend to like it. Sometimes, hell, a lot of the time Myron hated the army.

He froze when he heard faint traces of the enemy again. He listened closely, hoping it would reveal its position. His natural instincts paid off and he figured out it was coming from his west flank. It was better to get this over with sooner than later, or he would catch holy hell from his sergeant.

Flinging himself onto the couch, Myron closed his eyes and stuffed his hand between the cushions. He should get extra hazard pay because he was pretty sure there was something akin to biological warfare going on in the couch the unit’s men spent most of their free time on.

“Mmm, LT, what are you doing?”

Myron froze. Johnson had caught him during the mission. There was no way to be nonchalant with your ass high in the air and face smashed against the cushions. Myron still heard his enemy mocking him. It was persistent and low.

“What’s that noise?”

Myron sighed, knowing he would have to trust Johnson. It could have been worse. It could have been Taylor who found him. “That’s my cell phone.”

“Is it playing…”

“Yes,” Myron snapped. “Zeke changed my ring tone and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“You lost it again, didn’t you, LT?” Amusement was evident in Johnson’s voice.

“Shut up and help me find it.”

Myron shoved his hand deeper past something squishy that made him wince. Just when he was about to give up, he felt the hard edges of the cell phone. Grasping it with two fingers and straining, Myron finally managed to pull it out of the couch. As the tones of ‘I’m Too Sexy’ played in the room, Myron scowled at it.

Zeke was a dead man.

“I’m not the technology expert, but I think you answer it to make the song stop.”

The way Johnson chuckled all but sealed his fate in Myron’s eyes. Johnson was a dead man, too. Mutiny didn’t just happen in the navy.

Myron scowled at his cell phone. The caller ID showed it was Zeke calling. Viciously stabbing a few buttons, Myron answered the phone.

“You’re a dead man, Anderson.”

“Hello to you, too, Myron. How are you this fine afternoon?”

“There’s nothing fine about this afternoon.” Myron turned around and flopped down on the couch. Johnson was smart enough to have fled the room, but Myron could hear him chuckling in the kitchen. “I could have you sent to Leavenworth for tampering with government property. It would only take one phone call, ya know.”

“I guess I’m safe then considering your track record with phones.”

Myron banged his head against the back of the couch. “I hate you.”

“Sure ya do, LT. Now the question remains, why’re you at the boys’ place when I’m at your place?”

“I had to talk to Johnson.”

“Why didn’t you simply call Johnson? Oh, wait, could that be because ya lost your cell phone? Again? Went there to look for it thinkin’ you’d find it before I caught on. You should know better than that by now.”

Myron had the urge to throw his phone across the room. His tone might have been considered a whine by some. “It’s not my fault.”

The tutting tone conveyed Zeke’s intended sarcasm over the phone. “You poor baby.”

“Fuck off.” Myron couldn’t help but chuckle. “You changed my ring tone. I hate it.”

“Best figure out how to change it, then.”

“I tried.” Zeke’s laughed filled the room even over the phone line. It made Myron’s stomach do strange things. “I’ll be coming home now.”

“Stay there ‘n’ have a beer with the men. It’ll keep ‘em on their toes.”

“I’m done for the day.”

“Now, LT. We had this discussion about your anti-social tendencies.”

“Anti-social tendencies are pretty big words for you.”

“I’ve been forced to read up dealing with you.” Zeke cranked up a southern drawl. “Bein’ a good ol’ boy ‘n’ all. You go on ‘n’ play nice. The reward will be worth the effort ‘n’ the wait.”

Myron gulped and thumped his head against the back of the couch again. Zeke was being playful and it would be the death of him. The man knew exactly what his drawl did to Myron. Even though Myron knew the man intentionally made it thicker, it didn’t matter to his dick.

“What sort of reward?”

“Tangible. A very tangible reward.”

Myron groaned and would have buried his face against the couch cushion if it hadn’t smelt so funky. The sexual tension was all but unbearable. The attraction had been there from the first moment they met. But, then the friendship had grown, surprising Myron that he could need anyone as much as he needed Zeke. He wanted to go the next level, but he was afraid of endangering what they shared.

Myron licked his lips. “I’ll stay for one coffee.”

“No more caffeine for you today,” Zeke chided. “I don’t want to have to peel you off the ceiling. One beer. Stay for thirty minutes and then you can leave. I’ll even call you to give you an excuse to leave without being rude.”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Fine, twenty minutes. Go on.”

End Part 1.


	2. Chapter 2

The phone line went dead. Myron knew his men trusted him. It was a hard earned trust that had been tested and proven in battle. His father had drilled into him the concept of professional distance. He wasn’t supposed to be their friend. He was their leader. It was too hard to send a friend to die. It was best to keep everything on a professional level and relate only soldier to soldier. Zeke had shown him the error of his ways. Zeke was brother, father, confidante, and sergeant all at the same time to his men. They listened to him unconditionally.

Myron was uneasy socializing with the men, but it seemed nearly impossible without Zeke at his side. When the other man was there, it was effortless to smile at his jokes and occasionally add a comment.

The men were out on the back deck, lounging in a variety of mismatched lawn chairs. The one remaining was wobbly and patched with duct tape. He could see Johnson, Taylor, and Ruiz. McKay, Percell, and Doc were conspicuously absent.

“Hey, LT!” Taylor greeted him with a loud whoop and lifted his beer in a sad mock of a salute.

“Where’s Sarge?” Ruiz asked. He sat next to Taylor with his feet propped on the cooler.

“He’s not here.”

“Something wrong?” Johnson asked.

Apparently it troubled the men to see Myron without Zeke. “We aren’t attached at the hip.”

“Sure,” Taylor snorted, thinking Myron had made a pretty good joke. Maybe it was good if he was occasionally seen without his sergeant.

“Get me a beer, Taylor.”

Taylor raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really?”

“The world won’t end if I have a beer with you. Do you have a problem with that?”

“No, of course not.” He shoved Ruiz’s feet off the cooler, ignoring his friend’s indignant snarl. Rooting around in the ice, he pulled out a beer and held it out to Myron.

Taylor and Johnson exchanged worried glances.

“You sure something isn’t wrong?” Johnson asked.

“No,” Myron snapped and sat down in the empty chair. He almost tipped over and glared at Ruiz simply because he was closest. “I’m having a beer.”

“You sure you don’t want coffee?” Baker asked.

Myron hadn’t noticed Baker since he was off to the side of the deck. He wasn’t sure how he could have missed the massive man wearing obnoxious surfer board shorts, sprawled out in an inflatable kiddie pool.

Myron tried to twist off the cap. “No, I want a beer.”

“Um, it’s the good stuff,” Ruiz told him. “You need a bottle opener.”

“This is too much trouble for beer that tastes like horse piss. I’ll just have a cup of coffee.”

“I’d advise against that.” Johnson made a face and shook his head. “We ran out of coffee filters. You don’t want to know what Taylor decided to use as a filter.”

Ruiz tossed a rusty bottle opener at Myron. He caught it and noticed it had been stolen from one of the bars the boys frequented. Sighing heavily, Myron managed to pop off the cap and looked around for a garbage can.

Ruiz scrambled to get out of his chair. “No, don’t throw it out!”

“Why not?”

“I’m saving them.” Ruiz took the cap from Myron.

“Roo and Taylor are having another bet,” Baker explained, splashing around a bit. “We’re not sure about what, but Roo has a garbage can half full of caps.”

Ruiz settled a triumphant gaze on Taylor. “Nearly three-quarters full, thank you very much. Take that.”

Taylor held his hand up palm flat towards Ruiz’s face. “Whatever.”

Myron gulped his beer out of sheer self preservation. Whatever was going on between Taylor and Ruiz seemed harmless enough for now. He trusted Johnson to send him an email if it got out of hand. They continued their inane argument and Myron phased it out, continuing to sip at his beer. It was good to see the men relaxed and stateside. He was half done with the beer when his phone rang.

“What in the hell is…” Baker stopped when Myron directed a deadly gaze at him.

Instead Baker started humming along with Myron’s ring tone. Myron fumbled to get the damn phone disengaged from its belt clip. He almost dropped it, but managed to answer it before it started on a second chorus.

“What?” Myron barked into the phone.

Zeke was used to Myron’s usual greetings. “I promised I’d call.”

Myron looked at his watch. “It’s only been ten minutes.”

“I had to call you about an important matter.”

“What?”

The men had perked up, ready to jump to attention if needed. They relaxed only when Myron gestured at them. Myron and Zeke’s cell phones were supposed to be secure, but they never took any chances. Hell, half the time they talked in a code without meaning to. Zeke knew what he meant without Myron having to explain or even finish his sentence sometimes. Anyone who could manage to overhear their conversation would never be able to understand them.

“Callin’ about our on-going project.”

Myron ran two fingers up the neck of the beer bottle. “Work?”

“More like homework.”

“Ah.”

“I’m at your house, ya know, ready to get going.”

“I’ll be on my way then.”

“No, stay there. I said twenty minutes, and I meant it.”

Myron lowered his voice, confused about what Zeke was playing at and why he was doing it this way. “I don’t…”

“This particular project needs a lot of work, Myron. It’s special. You can’t whip through it like you do with… painting.”

Myron’s breath caught at the way Zeke made this sound. He might be talking about home repairs, but the innuendo of his tone spoke about another matter entirely. That’s when Myron understood what a complete bastard Zeke was. He was going to talk to him with that drawl and expected Myron to listen in front of the guys.

“It’s about attention to detail,” Zeke continued, his drawl heavy and slow. “Planning. You’ve got to have the touch for it.”

“Planning?” Myron croaked.

“Yeah, proper prep. You’ve got to take it slow. Take your time ‘n’ do it right. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Myron? Doing it right.”

Johnson looked at him funny, so Myron took another sip of beer, trying to appear casual. “Um, yeah. Sure.”

“No hesitation now, Myron. We’ve both been waiting a long while to finish this up proper.”

“No, no. I-” He hated that Zeke could turn him into a babbling mess. He was so going to chew him out once he had his words back. “Yes.”

“We’ll have to do it all over the house.”

“Wha-”

“The painting. You still with me?”

“Sure. Painting. Uh huh.” Myron shifted in his chair, and it creaked dangerously under him. He was having trouble controlling the images of Zeke doing things all over the house that had nothing to do with painting.

“We’ve already started with the kitchen, but we could do it there again. Living room. Bedroom. At least twice in each place. Maybe three.”

“Three?”

“Well, at least you.” Zeke chuckled low and deep. “I’m not gonna do all the work, but I’m gonna make sure it’s done proper.”

Myron bit his bottom lip and considered how to play this. He knew he would probably sound lame, but he could play Zeke’s game. “I may not be all that experienced, but I’m game. Are you getting the, ah, primer on?”

“Yeah, I am. Better leave before I finish without you. Come… home. Don’t speed.”

Myron immediately shut off his phone. Zeke’s tone was more than a hint that the bastard had been touching himself. Myron set his unfinished beer on the deck and stood.

“I’ll be going now.”

He dropped his phone on the sidewalk in his haste to pull out his keys. The damn thing was still working when he grabbed it up. After Myron slammed the gate behind him, all the men laughed and shook their heads.

“Do they really think they’re fooling anyone?” Taylor rolled his eyes.

“Don’t ask, don’t tell,” Ruiz retorted.

John fixed his gaze on them both, with unspoken warning.

“Have a beer and chill, Johnson.” Ruiz kicked the cooler in his direction. “We got their backs.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Baker asked.

“Nothin’, Biggins,” Taylor said and rolled his eyes. “Something over your head.”

“Oh, c’mon, guys!”

When all they did was laugh at him, Baker splashed them with water from his kiddie pool.

++++++

Myron’s greeting when he stormed into his house was to throw his cell phone at Zeke’s head. He slammed the door behind him and toed off his boots. The cell phone landed on the sloping hardwood floor still intact.

“Interesting strategy. Break it instead of figuring out how to change the ring tone.”

Zeke sprawled out on the old futon that served as a couch wearing only a pair of well worn jeans. His chest and feet were bare.

“You’re a bastard.”

“Welcome home.”

“Painting?” Myron spat. “I was right in front of the guys.”

Zeke’s hand settled on the waistband of his jeans. “I know. That’s right where I wanted ya to be.”

“If you ever do that to me again, I’m going to string you up on the nearest flagpole. You have no idea how hard…” Myron coughed, not meaning the innuendo that made Zeke smirk. “Don’t grin at me like that, Zeke. It was completely unacceptable.”

“LT…”

“No!” Myron stomped into the living room. “I have to maintain authority. Staying for a beer was bad enough. Do you have any idea what those morons are up to now? Roo has some sort of bet going with Taylor that will probably end in the downfall of the world as we know it. And…”

“Ah, LT.”

“Baker was in a goddamn kiddie pool. Wearing pink and orange shorts. I shouldn’t be subjected to that sort of thing. It was bad enough, and then you called…”

“Myron!”

“What!”

“C’mere…” Myron knew then that it had been a set-up. Zeke was hard from watching him get worked up.

“Oh.”

Zeke patted the couch beside him.

“At least this couch is clean,” Myron muttered and shuffle-stepped closer to Zeke. At the other man’s questioning arc of an eyebrow, Myron shook his head. “You don’t want to know. It’s the phone’s fault.”

“I’m rather fond of your phone.”

“So I learned. I can’t believe you…”

Zeke shrugged and rolled his shoulders. “It was fun. Don’t get all riled up again. I have better uses for your mouth.”

Myron watched as Zeke slowly unbuttoned and noticed Zeke wasn’t wearing any underwear. Myron forgave him temporarily for being a bastard and licked his lips. He was about to pull off his shirt when the phone rang. It was the ring tone for Colonel Brewster.

Now Zeke thumped his head back against the couch. “Answer the phone.”

Myron really wished that his phone had been broken.

++++++

Intel had come across Brewster’s desk that Myron and Zeke needed to be briefed on in-person and immediately. Myron had taken a while to answer his phone, but that was nothing new. He had also sounded aggravated, but that was pretty much a constant when dealing with the young lieutenant.

Brewster had wondered what was up until he got them both in his office. They were his best team. They really were. But, sometimes Brewster wanted to slam both of their heads against his desk. Whatever made them his best team also made them his most high maintenance team.

Brewster had handpicked Zeke to control the team of misfits. The sergeant provided the experience and stability the young men needed, but he had enough of his own issues not to judge them. Carl would have promoted Zeke if one of the man’s hang-ups hadn’t been an aversion to officers. It had been a struggle to find someone to work with him. On paper the lifer was a perfect soldier and yet he never seemed to make a connection with anyone Brewster was hoping for. He shared a mutual respect and friendship with Rusty that functioned. Rusty’s death in Iraq had left Team Viking in need of leadership.

Brewster had asked around after he overheard another colonel complaining about a lieutenant by the name of Goldman who had managed to make the mess cook cry after a ranting for giving his men food poisoning. He quickly learned that off-the-record people thought Myron had potential since he was intelligent and a general’s son, if only he could get his temper under control. Then there was his little problem with authority. On paper Myron Goldman was always one step away from a dishonourable discharge. It was a good thing Brewster never trusted other people’s opinions. He sought out Myron for himself and set up a not-so-chance “test” meeting with Zeke.

The sparks had been immediate between Zeke and Myron. They sized each other up and Brewster knew he had finally found a match for Zeke. It had been a fight to get Myron onto his team and a constant fight to keep him. The biggest obstacle was still Myron who refused to play the politics that the rank and file of the army demanded.

Each member of Team Viking had a specialty. Brewster’s happened to be reading people and he had a master’s degree in psychology to boot. Goldman and Anderson masked what they shared well behind the acceptable label of friendship. Team Viking had to be by definition closer than other units.

Brewster’s plans had fallen exactly into place. Now he suspected they simply needed time to get it under control and until they did, they’d be useless to him. Everyone needed some down time.

Myron sat in a chair across from Brewster’s desk. His knee kept bouncing up and down, hitting Brewster’s desk. The boy was definitely on edge. His nails were chewed and he was getting ready to bite them again. Carl nearly burst out laughing when Zeke batted Myron’s hand away from his mouth.

It was probably cruel keeping them here, but it was more than amusing and payback for the numerous migraines Myron had given him.

Brewster leaned back in his chair and closed his laptop. “So that’s that. We wait and keep tabs on the situation.”

Myron’s gaze slipped to the door. He obviously wanted to get out, but he waited to be dismissed. Brewster wanted to draw it out a little bit longer.

“You quit smoking yet?”

“Yes,” Myron snapped and then sighed, realizing he sounded insolent. “Yes, sir.”

“He’s workin’ on it,” Zeke corrected. “Still sneaks smokes occasionally. Now that we’re stateside, he’s going to use some of that gum.”

Myron glared at his sergeant. “That gum tastes terrible.”

“Can’t be worse than a cancer stick.”

Brewster opened his desk drawer and rustled around in his pens until he found his wallet. Thumbing open the worn leather, he pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handed it over to Zeke.

“You want in on the bet?” Zeke chuckled and pocketed the twenty.

“No. That’s to buy the first pack of patches for my own sanity. Now get the hell out of here and don’t come back until you’ve got your heads on straight.”

++++++

“You missed the turn to my house.” Myron tapped the passenger’s side window of Zeke’s pickup truck. “And don’t go making that old joke about LTs and maps.”

“We’re not going to your house. It’s Friday.”

“So, Thursday means we drive aimlessly in the wrong direction? You didn’t tell me this bullshit was part of the package deal.”

Zeke grinned as he drove. Myron was a horrible passenger, but always amusing. “It’s Friday, which means that tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Then it’s Sunday. Do you want a medal?”

“One thing I didn’t tell you about Sunday mornings is non-negotiable.”

“You’ve been lying to me?” Myron snapped and crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at Zeke.

Through the death-glare Zeke could sense Myron’s insecurity. He reached with his right hand and squeezed Myron’s knee. “Nah. Just haven’t had the opportunity to bring it up. When we were in that living hell with more sand than sense, I got to thinking.”

Myron relaxed marginally and licked his bottom lip. “Yeah?”

Zeke knew exactly how Myron thought. “Don’t worry. No one can see where my hand is.” He moved it slightly up Myron’s thigh. “I got to thinking about Sunday mornings with you with a bunch of particulars.”

“Namely?”

“You ‘n’ me sleeping together,” Zeke’s tone lowered and he turned up the drawl. “Sunday mornings sleepin’ in. No place to be but with each other. Takin’ our time gettin’ up ‘n’ then a big ol’ breakfast with pancakes, bacon, and eggs.”

“Bacon?”

“Relax, LT. I know how to take care of you. I had a lot of time to think about this…”

“Obsess about it, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Zeke agreed and patted Myron’s thigh. “Turkey bacon. I can adjust ‘n’ it’s more healthy. Maybe some sausage.”

Myron groaned and thumped his head against the headrest. “That’s a horrible euphemism.”

“It wasn’t,” Zeke chuckled. He recalled what he considered their first date eating some sort of unidentifiable meat over beers. It had been during a run transferring a soldier gone AWOL. None of what occurred during those few days would ever be reported to the brass. “But, that’s part of the plan, too. Lazy Sunday mornings makin’ slow, sweet love…”

“Zeke…”

“I don’t want much in life, Myron. You’re it. Spendin’ Sunday mornings like that with you is worth more to me than a million bucks. So tough shit, boy. Suck it up ‘n’ realize I’m not going anywhere.”

Myron couldn’t look at Zeke because he was afraid, so he glanced out the window. He had never been good with shit like this. Not sure what to say, he was afraid of saying the wrong thing and most of all, of what Zeke was offering him. He awkwardly laid his hand over Zeke’s.

When he spoke his voice was on the verge of cracking. “Sundays might not be so bad.”

“Mmm, not bad at all.” Zeke wasn’t going to push Myron much more than this. It was tough for him and if they weren’t hurtling down the highway in a vehicle, he was sure Myron probably would’ve jackrabbited away. “The thing is, we need one more thing.”

“I don’t know if I can…”

“Oh, you can get a bed.”

Myron whipped his head around and his mouth gaped open. Obviously he had been expecting to talk about something he didn’t want to.

“A bed?”

“Oh, yeah, a bed.” Zeke’s grin had become a smirk. “Not just any bed. A king sized bed. Never had me one of those ‘n’ I intend to get one.”

“I have a bed,” Myron snapped indignantly.

“You’ve got an air mattress on the floor. Even the army gives us better than that most of the time.”

“I was going to get a real mattress eventually.”

“Uh huh. Oh, look. We’re here. It happens to be a mattress store.”

Myron tried to let go of Zeke’s hand, but Zeke was having none of that. “We can’t go shopping for a mattress together.”

End Part 2.


	3. Chapter 3

“Why not?”

“They’ll know,” Myron blurted out.

“We’re not wearing signs, Myron. If we can fly under the radar in the army, then we sure as hell can fly under the radar in a mattress store. People aren’t lookin’ for it. We’re simply two army grunts…”

“I’m not a grunt.”

“Fine, one officer ‘n’ one grunt, back from tour lookin’ to buy furniture. You’re obviously clueless…”

“Hey!”

“As I was sayin’, you’re obviously clueless, so you’re takin’ your friend along. They’ll be oblivious. I promise.” Zeke finally loosened his grip on Myron’s fingers as he manoeuvred into the parking lot. “I’d kiss ya right now if I could.”

Myron pulled his hand away and huffed loudly. “You’re crazy.”

“Damn straight. Some day, when we’re done with the army, I’m going to take you some place I can kiss you in public.” He could see Myron sputtering and it only made Zeke want to kiss him all the more. “Told ya I wasn’t going anywhere. It gets worse, Myron, so you’d better listen up. Some day, I’m gonna make this official.”

“We’ll get the goddamn mattress,” Myron managed to choked out. “Happy now?”

Zeke had all but told Myron he planned on marrying him one day and the boy’s answer to was to snap about the mattress. It wasn’t a ring, but it was a start.

“Ecstatic.”

Myron fumbled with the door handle. “Let me do the talking.”

“Of course,” Zeke agreed and managed to not burst out laughing. That was something he did a lot around Myron.

Myron had a grim expression and stiff posture. It was the same way he looked before he went in to see the brass if it was anyone but Brewster. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and started towards the entrance with Zeke falling into a matching stride behind him. They got about fifteen feet into the store before Myron froze.

“None of it’s gonna bite,” Zeke said and waved an arm around the big store filled with furniture.

“They might.” Myron glowered at the three salespeople ready to pounce.

“They gotta pay the bills somehow.”

“I don’t want to…”

“We have to talk to someone. They’ll know the product.”

“It’s a mattress. How many can there be…” He stopped in his tracks when he saw the rows upon rows of mattresses.

“People like choice.” Zeke came to stand beside Myron.

Sensing that the prey was about to flee, a saleswoman pounced. “Hello there! My name’s Mandy. How can I help you today?”

Zeke flashed her a friendly smile. “He’s lookin’ for a mattress.”

“Wonderful! You’ve come to the right place.” Mandy patted the top of a mattress right next to her. She looked at Myron, “What exactly are you looking for?”

“A mattress,” Myron deadpanned.

“Any particular name brand?”

“A mattress,” Myron repeated and glared at her.

“Okay, let’s start with style first.” Mandy kept smiling and pushed her chest out, the buttons of her too tight shirt strainging. “Luxury plush? Euro top? Pillow top? Latex, memory foam, wool, or silk?”

Myron shuffled his feet. “Um.”

Unflustered, Mandy adjusted her strategy and spoke more slowly. “Double, queen, or king.”

“Um.”

“King,” Zeke offered before Myron had an aneurysm. So much for let-me-do-the-talking. “Definitely a king.”

“Alright then, that’s a start.” Mandy beamed at Zeke, sensing she wasn’t going to lose a sale and who was really pivotal in the matter. She started walking backwards, luring the men deeper into the mattress aisle. “Were you thinking something firm or soft?”

“He likes something firm,” Zeke answered with a straight face and happily saw Myron almost choke.

“Excellent. Why don’t we take a look at this firm top with pocketed coil system? It offers total support.”

“It’ll be good for your back.” Zeke clapped Myron on the shoulder and Myron sputtered some more.

Mandy patted the mattress in question. “Go on and give it a test drive.”

“Yeah, LT, go on ‘n’ give it a test drive.”

Myron blushed. “I’m sure it’s fine.”

“Oh, you have to try it out!” She sat down and her skirt inched higher up her thighs. Mandy bounced up and down on the mattress, her boobs jiggling. Then she stood up and gestured at it with a grand sweep of her arm. “Why don’t both of you try it out?”

Zeke sat down on the edge of the mattress and patted the spot right next to him. “You heard the lady.”

Myron glared at Zeke and stumbled as Mandy gave him a push towards the mattress. He recovered none too gracefully and plopped down on the mattress.

“It’s fine,” Myron said through gritted teeth. He could feel Zeke’s warm thigh touching his.

Oblivious, or not caring, Mandy pressed on with the sales pitch. “Oh, you have to lie down to really get a feel for it.”

“No, I-”

Mandy reached out to push Myron back but stopped before she touched him as Zeke shook his head. “Best not be doin’ that, miss.”

Myron hated anyone but Zeke touching him. Hell, Zeke hated anyone touching Myron. Mandy got a glimpse of their dog tags and she wasn’t a complete moron. No one lived close to an army base and didn’t know of the men coming home. She kept her cool and chalked Myron’s skittishness up to PTSD.

“Would you like some time to think everything over?”

“That would be great, thanks,” Zeke said. “We’ll signal when we’re ready for ya.”

Mandy flashed her patented toothy smile and fussed with her hair. She pointed at a computer terminal at the end of the aisle. “I’ll be over there.”

Myron hung his head and his whole body was tense. Even his fingers were curled into fists as Mandy pranced away.

“She’s gone,” Zeke whispered. Myron’s surliness simmered on the edge of rage. Zeke knew he had to talk him down and he didn’t want this moment that was supposed to be fun to turn against them. “Just us now.”

Zeke bounced up and down on the mattress, wanting to lighten Myron’s dark mood. He flopped back into a sprawl. “See now, this is comfy.”

Myron couldn’t help but glance back at Zeke. “We’re in the middle of a store.”

“Lay back.”

“I won’t.”

“It’s a pretty big purchase to not try out.”

“It’s stupid.”

“C’mon now, Myron. There’s lots of space. It’s a king size.”

“It probably won’t even fit in our room,” Myron snapped but he did shimmy back further on the mattress.

Zeke didn’t miss that Myron had referred to it as their room. “It’ll fit. I measured.”

“You’ve been planning this for a while.”

“Yep.” Zeke patted the space next to him. “Acres ‘n’ acres of room here. I was thinkin’ we could get a mattress heater, too. The kind with dual controls that fits over the mattress. Imagine coming to bed and it being all nice ‘n’ toasty.”

Myron shimmied further back, weight supported on one elbow. He wasn’t lying down quite yet. “I said I’d get that draft fixed.”

“I know.”

Zeke still lay down, squinting from the bright fluorescents. “Your house has character.” He kept silent as he watched Myron creep into a prone position. Dealing with Myron was worse than trying to herd a surly cat. “Like you.”

Myron tried to sit up, but Zeke stopped him with a hand in the centre of his chest. “Mattress. You. Stay.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“Lie down. Good boy.”

“You’re going to pay for this,” Myron all but growled, but he stayed still.

“No doubt.” Zeke removed his arm from Myron’s chest and relaxed. “Comfy, ain’t it.”

“Maybe,” Myron agreed reluctantly. “Probably costs a small fortune.”

“Stop being so cheap.”

“Thrifty,” Myron corrected and sat up. “I’ll buy it.”

“Don’t want to try any others out?” Zeke sat up with a grunt. Truth be told he’d checked out mattresses beforehand on the internet and this was on the top of his list.

“No, I’ll get this one.”

“Works for me. We’ll get the matching box spring, too. Now, we have to look at a bed frame, side tables, and dressers.”

“You didn’t say anything about that other stuff.”

“You were thinking we’d plop a mattress on the floor?”

“Why not?”

“’Cause it’ll look silly in a freshly painted room ‘n’ grown men don’t sleep on the floor.”

“I haven’t painted that room yet,” Myron shot back and stood up.

“I did,” Zeke told him. “It’s a surprise.”

“When did you-”

“I took the mornin’ off when you were doin’ paperwork. It’s all done ‘n’ we can refinish the floors another time.”

Myron stared at Zeke like he had grown a third eyeball in the middle of his forehead. He wasn’t sure how to react. Part of him was indignant that Zeke had done that, but the other half was pleased. Myron decided to go with indignant since it made more sense.

“I suppose I’ll have to live with it now.”

“You’re welcome ‘n’ you’ll like it. I promise.” Zeke stood up and wanted to pull Myron into his arms and kiss that pissy look off his face. It was as cute as hell. “I found the paint chip ya hid in the kitchen cupboard. Hard to miss one circled ‘n’ labelled ‘master bedroom’.”

“I was going to get to that.”

“Before or after you fixed the draft?”

“Before,” Myron retorted. “I simply needed to find the time and spray foam. Are you sure you got the right colour?”

“Sapphire Berry.” Zeke sniggered with amusement. “I also fixed the draft.”

“I didn’t name the paint colours.”

“I know.” He walked towards the bed frames as Myron followed along. “We’ll need to get something sturdy.”

“I hate you.”

“You’ll thank me when your cheap ass frame doesn’t break after…”

“Anderson,” Myron cut him off, mortified.

“Yes, Goldman? How about that one?”

The set in question was a contemporary modern suite made of brushed nickel.

“I thought you’d like country knotty pine.”

Zeke beamed at him. “I’m full of surprises.”

They walked around the display floor as Myron made snide comments. Zeke was able to decipher what he liked from the Myron-speak and they ended up with a set of sleek black contemporary furniture. The bed frame was sturdy and Zeke made sure there was a place to grab onto the headboard. Myron had nearly run out of the store when Zeke whispered that to him. Mandy was in her glory as Zeke rattled off the style numbers from memory. They also bought a full comforter set in thick black and blue stripes. For the end of the bed they got a leather overstuffed bench seat. Myron continued to bitch at the price with every item that was rung up.

Mandy asked the standard question at the end of the order. “Is that everything?”

“I’ll take that rug, too. It wasn’t too hideous,” Myron said.

Mandy gave Zeke an imploring look to translate and he happily helped. “Ya talkin’ about the rug with the swirly pattern in black and blue? The one you were bitchin’ about being too expensive?”

“Yes, that one. Add it to the order.”

“You heard the man, Mandy. Add it to the order.”

She was getting a shitload of commission from being smart enough to leave Myron and Zeke alone. “It’s so nice.”

“What’s so nice?” Myron repeated back with heavy sarcasm.

“To see some bachelors with taste.”

“I have a girlfriend,” Myron quickly snapped.

Zeke raised an eyebrow at Myron’s hasty admission.

“How nice!” Mandy quickly processed the rush delivery date.

Zeke was enjoying himself too damn much. “So, I just wanna make sure that bed frame has a warranty on it. In case it gets broken.”

“Yes, a one year warranty.” Mandy gave Zeke a strange look.

Zeke clapped a fuming Myron on the shoulder. “That’s good. ‘Cause Myron’s girl is a sturdy girl. He likes ‘em with some meat on their bones.”

“Oh, she’s something else alright,” Myron agreed through clenched teeth. “Not very smart, though.”

“She puts up with you, so maybe you’re right about that.”

Mandy couldn’t conceal her sigh at what she thought was another example of male stupidity in action. “We have a 48 hour return policy with receipt if it’s in its original condition in case she doesn’t like something.”

Zeke knew he was walking a fine line with Myron, but damn, the boy was so easy to rile up.

“She’s dating him, so she likes nearly anything, but she’s got good taste. No worries though, ‘cause she’s not going anywhere.”

Zeke kept grinning even when Myron kicked him in the shin.

++++++

Home for Zeke was that ramshackle house that Myron had fallen for. The house had character, just like Myron. It also was temperamental like Myron. But, with blood, sweat, tears, and some sweet talking, both were coming around.

Zeke noticed the house had been cleaned more than usual. Sure, some of that meant a paint stained sheet had been thrown over a pile of tools and paint cans, but the effort was clear. Even the lone pillow on the sad old futon in the living room was fluffed. Zeke made a mental note that next weekend he was going to drag Myron shopping to get a sofa even if it killed them both. It would be incentive to get the fireplace working again. North Carolina or not, there were many nights cool enough they could curl up on a nice leather couch with the fire going. He even bet that despite bitching and moaning Myron would love making s’mores.

These were all the small domestic things that Zeke had never gotten to do nor had really wanted to do before Myron. Everything with Carol had been like playing house with her doilies and frilly things. Even when Myron was being snarly, it was easier to live with him than it had ever been with his ex-wife.

The bed was supposed to be delivered this afternoon, so he’d cajoled Myron into working from home. He would have joined him except that combat training with the men ran longer than expected. Taylor and his attitude needed to be taken down a peg. One bruised ego and one hour later, Taylor limped out of the workout room and Zeke was on his way home late. Myron hadn’t answered his cell phone.

“Myron?” Zeke called out. “Did you kill your cell phone again?”

There was a thump, then a dragging sound from upstairs, followed by muffled cursing.

“Goddamn boy. Wonder what he’s up to.” Zeke grinned and shook his head. Raising his voice he yelled, “You’d better not be tryin’ to put that bed together yourself!”

There was silence from the second floor. Zeke took the stairs two at a time. Flinging open the master bedroom door, he was struck speechless. The bed was not only assembled, but made up with the black and blue striped comforter. Myron had even managed to figure out the thing that hid the mattress that Zeke vaguely recalled was named after a piece of women’s clothing. The dressers and lamps were in place, even if they weren’t level because the floor sloped. But, that was nothing compared to Myron, who stood at the end of the bed.

There were no words to describe Myron. ‘Damn fine’ came to mind, but was wholly inadequate. He stood at parade rest wearing his dress uniform. His buttons gleamed and shoes were shined. Even creases had been pressed into his slacks. If that wasn’t enough to get Zeke’s mouth watering, then there was the fact that Myron had shaved and gotten a haircut. He looked every inch the cherry LT.

Zeke licked his lips and fumbled to close the door. The boy might have a thing for his southern drawl, but Zeke had his own kinks. An adulthood spent in the army meant he noticed a fine man in uniform. His man in uniform, an officer’s uniform, was his downfall.

“Cat got your tongue, Sergeant?”

Zeke gulped. Myron had used that self-righteous tone. It made Zeke want to either bend Myron over or punch him. It was a feeling he’d gotten used to over the last month. God, he loved Myron so damn much it was painful.

“Been busy I see, LT.”

A flicker of uncertainty crossed Myron’s face. “I have.”

Zeke came closer and was proud to see that Myron stood his ground. He reached out to touch Myron’s freshly shaved cheek with the backs of his knuckles. “Lookin’ fine.”

“I feel like an idiot.”

Zeke ran his thumb over Myron’s lips. Myron’s eyes drifted shut and he shivered. “You’re anything but that. I’m thinkin’ you’re only one thing right now…”

“What’s that?” Myron whispered.

Zeke grabbed Myron’s tie, pulling him against his chest and up onto his toes. “You’re mine right now.”

“If you hadn’t noticed, I’m sort of yours all the time.”

“Same goes for me.”Zeke tugged on the tie. Manhandling an officer. His day got better and better. “I’m thinkin’ we should break in that new bed.”

“That an order?”

Zeke’s day just got incredibly better. He wrapped an arm around Myron’s waist and pulled him close. They touched chest to chest and Zeke had all kinds of fun mussing up his officer. He nuzzled behind Myron’s ear and nipped lightly.

“Yeah, that’s an order, sir. You’re gonna let me strip you off ‘n’ touch, then kiss, every bit of skin I find. You can bitch all you want, but you’re gonna stand there and let me love you.” He started to slip the knot out of the tie. “We’ve been waiting a long time for this.”

Myron arched his neck back slowly. “Is it worth the wait?”

He kissed above Myron’s collar and undid the top button. “Best figure this out now if you haven’t already, Myron. I’d do anything for you. I’d kill for you. Die for you. Live for you… waiting’s nothin’ at all. The wait makes the taking all the more sweeter.”

Zeke was as good as his promise. He undid every gold button, stripped off the freshly pressed uniform and fell to his knees in front of him. He kissed and caressed Myron as his friend… his lover… his officer… his everything stood at attention. No word other than worship could describe the way he touched Myron. Zeke caressed with fingers and lips until Myron moaned, begged, and cursed. The uniform soon lay forgotten on the floor, jumbled together with Zeke’s jeans and t-shirt. The rough with the refined, much the way they were.

The Egyptian cotton sheets were worth every penny, even though Myron had bitched about the cost. The smooth slide and glide of the sheets on their skin was almost heaven. Real heaven was skin on skin without the worry of bombs, army, or personal fears. They almost came from rubbing off, but Zeke pulled back even though Myron’s whimper nearly killed him. He continued to touch, to comfort, and promise. He touched Myron in places that had only received a lingering, stolen touch before. Now he worshiped even more, pinning Myron’s hips down with one hand while he teased with the other.

Myron trusted him here and now. He was vulnerable as he had never let anyone see before. He could have let his eyes slip shut, but he risked watching. Myron kept watching Zeke’s enraptured blue eyes that watched him right back. He let his legs fall open, welcoming Zeke’s touch.

Want. Need. Fear. Desire.

Desire not only for the physical touch, but for everything Zeke offered.

Comfort. Respect. Friendship. Love. True intimacy.

This risk had a reward waiting for them both. Teasing fingers led to arching hips as Zeke let go. He slicked his own cock after stroking Myron’s. It could have, maybe should have been more difficult. They were two jagged halves of the same soul. It wasn’t easy as Zeke pushed inside Myron. It wasn’t easy, but it was right. It felt right. It felt real.

Zeke rested his forehead against Myron’s own. They kissed, breath intermingled. Rocking together, they grew even closer. Zeke nuzzled and licked Myron’s collarbone, moving to bite into his shoulder. It would leave a mark, exactly what Zeke wanted. He felt the chain of Myron’s dog tags against his cheek and kissed it, tonguing and following the chain down until he kissed the dog tags. He came sucking on Myron’s dog tags.

Reaching down, he grabbed Myron’s cock and stroked roughly. “Hold the headboard,” he growled.

Myron hissed and thrashed, the new bed frame creaking beneath them. He grabbed the headboard and his hips bucked up. Just as he came, he swore the world moved.

It took a moment for his passion dazed brain to jumpstart and figure out what had really happened. All of his hard work and cursing putting the bed frame together had been for naught. He had even checked the schematics on his lap top.

“The bed broke,” Myron grumbled and smacked Zeke’s shoulder.

Zeke laughed and kissed him. “You put it together, so of course it did.”

Myron smacked him again. He might have kissed Zeke, too. But, only a little.

END Part 3.


End file.
